


The Big Bad Wolf

by GlitterDwarf



Category: Enemy at the Gates (2001)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:41:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterDwarf/pseuds/GlitterDwarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War makes you do crazy things. (Written in 2005)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Big Bad Wolf

So when you thought about it, it was really obvious what was going to happen. Sometimes things just happen when every day you wake up, grab your gun and run out into the dark sky and falling bombs and you're just so certain that today is your last. It makes you do things that maybe you wouldn't normally do. Or maybe you would do it normally, you just don't want to think of it that way. 

And it suits you, because you're dying later today anyway, so everything is okay. Sort of. 

He's the first friend you've made out here, and it's all the better that he likes you and you like him. It can't really be explained why you're such good friends, because you're the most unlikely pair. He's educated and kind of not the best soldier, and you're the best rifleman they've got. And maybe that's why, because he's so not you and he's safe and he likes you, and that means the whole world. He tells you what to do and how to do it and you do it because you're supposed to and it's for him and you're friends and that's what friends do. 

And for somebody who can barely spell things correctly your thoughts sure are long-winded. 

But you weren't really thinking about it, not until afterwards and then it's all you can think about. It wasn't a particularly special day. You've just shot and killed twelve men that day, almost beating your record. He's smiling and pleased and writes another little thing about you and for some reason you just can't stop grinning, even though you can still picture each and every person that you've murdered today. You both get up. You're ready to go back to your little place by the wall and party and drink and smoke and then sleep, because you've earned it. He's ready to do whatever it is he does at night. But for some reason, he offers to walk you out, at least to the door. You're in a dark hallway before you know it, and you can feel him behind you, hear him breathing, and your grin is still on your face. 

You feel him turn to face you so you do it, too, expecting a grin and a goodbye, but instead you see a very serious face staring out at you from the shadows. He claps your shoulder like he always does when he says goodbye, and this time his fingers go into your dirty hair, running across your scalp. Your grin wavers a bit as he draws closer, and suddenly your throat is dry and you have every classic symptom of a twelve year old girl about to get her first kiss. It's not your first kiss. In fact, you've kissed a few girls in your time. But for some reason, this is different. 

He's less than a centimeter away from your face and he licks his lips, and then you're just standing there, the two of you in the middle of the hallway, and for a moment you think he's going to pull back, laugh, and you will both be grinning again like it never happened. You feel a shakey breath blow across your lips and you look at him, and he's looking at you, and then your lips meet. His lips are every cliche in the world: they are firm, demanding, and moving fast. You open your mouth and grip his shoulders almost as hard as he's gripping yours, and suddenly your tongues are moving against one another's as your bodies rock back and forth. 

You break for air, and now he's kissing you over and over again, mumbling to himself about what are we doing here and you're so beautiful. And you're sure you could say the same thing if your voice was working, but instead all you feel like doing is this, just feeling his body move against yours and feel his lips move against yours and not think about the debris falling around you or the war going on, just him, just Danilov. 

You aren't sure exactly how it happens but the next thing you know he's holding your hand and you're both walking through the crowds of people and nobody seems to notice you and you don't really notice them, and then you're in his bed. You didn't even know he had a bed, not a matress on the ground, and before you can really think about it he's on top of you, on top of you, completely over you and his weight is all around you and there are his lips again, those pouty, red lips that you've been staring at for the past week anyway, and they're on yours, and you briefly wonder why he chose you before his tongue does that thing and you can't think anymore anyway. 

The buttons to your uniforms slowly come undone inbetween hurried kisses and he's feeling your chest and you gasp as his fingers go lower until his fingers find the bulge in your pants. He strokes this spot slowly and you break away from his kisses to bury your head in his shoulder. You groan deeply as his strokes go on, your hands reaching down to do the same for him. You each unbuckle the other's pants and you're both jacking each other off. His smell is everywhere and the whole cot is shaking. Your head is spinning and you think you're falling. You concentrate on the jerks to his penis. He moans, his mouth open and his head back. You watch him through lidded eyes because he can't see you. His hair is sweaty, mouth open, eyes tightly shut. He bites his lip. His body quivers next to yours. He's coming over your hand and then you do, too. 

You later think about this, since you can't stop thinking about it. He told you before that people do crazy things when a war goes on, and you wonder whether this is just one of those "crazy things." He once told you that your fates were intwined together, and you wonder if it is because he feels like he has something he owes to the fate. He told you many times that night that you are beautiful, and you wonder if it is because he loves you. You've heard about love before, and thought you felt it more than a few times. But you aren't sure if it's possible right here, right now. 

So you step outside. The sky is gray. There is smoke in the air and all around you it smells like a sickly mixture of gun powder, oil, and burnt flesh. You idly wonder how much longer you can take this. You wonder if you should just throw yourself in front of the next sniper bullet. You wonder if he would care. 

And you wonder if that would really be such a crazy thing to do.


End file.
